Repetitions
by RayWritesThings
Summary: For Laurel, things have a habit of working out. Established Relationship, No "Eleven-Fifty-Nine", Rated for suggestive language


**Hello, readers. I've decided to start cross-posting some of my fics from AO3 and tumblr over to FFN, so if you recognize this story most likely you've read it on either of my accounts there (Ray_Writes and raywritesthings, respectively). If you haven't read it before, I hope you enjoy!**

**-RayWritesThings**

**Repetitions**

Laurel drew in a breath through her nose as she lifted her arms over her head and began to count down from twenty. Only three more reps and she would pack it in for the day. The slight burn where her right shoulder met her neck was becoming harder to ignore, and she'd built up more than the average pain tolerance over the years fighting in the ring or otherwise. Even still, she could feel the sweat beginning to gather on her forehead, her skin itching just above her eyebrow.

She reached zero, drawing her arms down on the exhale until the weights she clutched in either hand just barely touched her chest. Two more reps. She was eager to reach the end of the exercise and in turn guilty at the thought of wanting it to be over. Laurel normally enjoyed her training regimen, but a dislocated shoulder was putting quite a damper on the usual routine. Rehab, the agonizingly necessary story of her life.

She repeated the arm motion once more, keeping the count to a steady pace. Rushing her movements would only do further damage to the muscle, not to mention it would be an admission of defeat. This injury had benched her for far too long already. Her team needed her, and she was eager to get back in the fight. That wasn't going to happen until she proved she was back in fighting form, however, so small steps and simple stretches were the name of the game for now. One rep of one set at a time.

Of course, one member of that team would rather she not be doing any reps or sets at all, and it was as if the very thought cued a _ding_ from the elevator. She resisted the urge to release her breath all in a sigh and instead completed the last rep at the same pace as the rest. That meant by the time she was finished, however, she had an audience.

"Laurel," Oliver groaned, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt he'd end up discarding later. If she were in the mood, she'd ask him if he wanted to join her. As it was, she was tired, sweaty, and not in the mood for an argument they both knew she was going to win anyway.

"Are you really surprised?" She didn't wait for an answer and stood up to retrieve her water bottle and a towel. "I'm supposed to be doing exercises, you know, if you weren't listening to the physical therapist."

"I was and I'm pretty sure the physical therapist said all of those exercises could be completed at home, without weights or equipment."

She swallowed the mouthful of water she'd taken and replied, "Well I have to supplement it a bit since she doesn't exactly know how much training I need to be doing to get back out there with you guys."

"You're not ready."

"And how many times have you gone into the field before you've fully recovered?"

"That's different," he immediately excused.

Laurel arched a brow and folded her arms over her chest. "How?"

Oliver's mouth opened, but nothing actually came out. He was no doubt struggling to come up with anything legitimate, or that would at least spare him a night on the couch. His shoulders sagged. "I worry about you."

Of course he did. He wouldn't be Oliver if he didn't, if he didn't worry about each and every person his life ever touched. Anyone who claimed the island turned him into some unfeeling killer, that her boyfriend didn't care about people, just didn't understand; he cared too much.

"Ollie, we have to trust each other to know our limitations. And to be there for each other when we don't." Laurel took two steps forward, planting herself in front of him, immovable. "I know I always count on you to catch me when I fall."

His lips twitched, but he stubbornly grumbled, "More like when you jump."

She shrugged with her good arm. "Same thing. Either way," she smirked, "I know you like it."

"I really, _really _shouldn't." He shook his head, but there was no mistaking the smile slowly spreading across his face. Laurel rewarded the admission with a kiss, one that apparently wasn't long enough as Oliver chased after her lips with his own when they parted.

She placed a hand against his chest to halt him. "Three more nights off—"

"Five—"

"_Three_. Then we go a couple rounds on the mat so I can prove to you I'm ready."

"Fine, he acquiesced, and she had to bite back the impulse to tell him how cute he looked when he pouted. That wouldn't help her case at all.

Instead she grinned and pecked him on the lips again before walking back over to her things. "Great. I'm heading back to take a shower so I'm ready to run coms for you guys tonight. Training room's all yours. You're gonna need it for Friday."

She thought his raised eyebrows were his only response to her challenge, but just as the elevator arrived she distinctly picked up his muttered, "I'd rather go a couple rounds in the bedroom."

"Oh Ollie," she sighed, and watched him spin around with a guilty expression at having been caught. Laurel considered him for a moment. "I wouldn't make you wait three nights for that."

She winked just as the doors closed.


End file.
